


Protect and Kill

by MatchaMochi



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: In a universe where everything went wrong, M/M, Villainous/psychotic/murderous Steve!, im feeling particularly mean this time, stevecentric, uhhh major character deathS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/pseuds/MatchaMochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why are you telling me this? We both know how that went,” </p><p>Tony nearly loses an eye, gets a concussion from hitting his head on a fucking wall trying to escape from Steve and Steve, well Steve leaves with a broken arm and several snapped ribs, courtesy of Hulk and Thor, (thank god they’re on his side,). It didn’t stop him from kidnapping Tony the second time around though,</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protect and Kill

**Author's Note:**

> You know, sometimes I wonder how sadism feels like-
> 
> (Suckish grammmar is only mine and my fault alone, and the timeline goes backwards in case it gets confusing(it really will))  
> [P.S I need a beta desperately 101,]

‘ _Click clack’_ that’s the sound his shoes makes when he steps on the ground, ‘ _Click clack’_ the sound it makes when it hits the wet, damp hard ground just like any other in Brooklyn, ‘ _Click clack’_ and he smiles widely because the constant beat is like a jolly tune _and gosh how funny is that?_

‘ _One two’_ he says to himself, looks down and cocks the gun towards the gasping wreck beneath him, ‘ _three four’_ a murmur covered by a deafening scream right after the silent shot. The boy under him loses an ear, ‘ _five six!’_ he sings to the still night air, bringing a bloodied knife right up to the boys hands, ‘ _seven eig-‘_ is interrupted when the boy bites his fingers in defiance. He growls and hisses, ‘ _eight.’_ Before grabbing a fistful of straw hair, he brings the knife slowly, carefully to the boys scalp. ’ _nine,’_ caught in his teeth as he moves the knife to a left and right motion,

 _‘Ten_ ,’ shouted to the sky, him covered in blood, the boy gasping and scrambling, feeling around his head that’s now bald and bloody. He slams his foot down, presses on the boys’ throat and the boy chokes, blue eyes watering,

He laughs and laughs and laughs-

* * *

 

 

 

It doesn’t pull, not an inch. Even when Tony scrapes the ropes with the edge of his gauntlet (the only thing he has of his armour now, the rest broken down by that fucking jerk,), like, was he a fucking _boy scout?_ He looks around, shivers when a cold breeze hits him. The view’s great here though, Tony has to give him that, he just wish he doesn’t have to be tied up to a fucking metal pole on top of a fifty storey building to appreciate it. He swears, one of this days Tony’s going to convince Steve to kidnap him somewhere _nice_ for once. Like that Italian restaurant Pepper told him about, they could have a little chat, knock some wine together, _hell_ he’ll eat fucking spaghetti for all he cares-

“I can hear you thinking from here _Stark,”_ Tony sees white teeth flashing, “Always, _always_ , fuckin’ talkin’ and talkin’-“The man tilts his head to the side, Tony looks away. He never really got used to that torn piece of meat hanging down his ear- er, where his ear should be, “I only ‘ave one fuckin’ ear for listenin’ arright?” see? Point taken, though it seems a little redundant now,

“Oh come on _Rogers,_ it’s not like we haven’t done this before,”

The man barks out in laughter at that. Another breeze picks up making his blonde hair flap in the wind. Tony always thought that his fringe looked ridiculous. When his laughter dies down he sighs contently, smiling at the city lights under him.

“So,” he faces Tony, “Watcha’ thinkin’?”

Tony doesn’t even hesitate, “Pushing you off the building.”

Steve narrows his eye at that but his smile turns into a dark grin, “You _would_ now wouldn’t you?”

Tony nods, ignoring the sting of his split lip as it bleeds out, “ ’course,”

Steve nods thoughtfully at that too. He stretches, his uniform showing the red HYDRA symbol emblazoned at his chest, red on black. His boots thumps towards him and when Steve leans down to meet his eyes Tony shudders. Baby blues shouldn’t look that cold, “If you did,” He gives a crooked smile,

“Then who’d be the villain here?”

* * *

 

He feels that he should start with the present. After all, Steve hated his past with a _passion_. Alright alright, the present now, hmmmmm, where exactly should he begin? Ah, how about this then,

“ _The Black Murder? What are you some kind of plague?”_

It’s when he meets Ironman.

He shrugs, brushing dirt off his shoulders, “Wasn’t my idea,” he gestures at Tony’s armour and whistles lowly, “Nice suit.”

Its half a second before Tony just _knows_ that something bad is going to happen, and he uses the other half to fly the _hell away_ from the maniac. The burning blazing building behind Steve starts crumbling and he grins, “Shame I have to tear it open now,” he says as he promptly throws a huge chunk of debris right at Tony-

“What was it, what was it? _Ironman_ right?” the fucking big ass rock knocks him and propels him to the ground because as luck would have it, he was getting ready to fly over right when he gets hit. He feels hot blood trickling by the side of his head, the suit flickers. He bumps, skids to a stop as he crashes on the asphalt. Tony tries to get up, straining to get his suit to follow him. His breathing is ragged and he is _fucking tired_ , this is _not_ a good day.

He sees Steve’s shadow, darker by the fire blazing behind him. He vaguely remembers something about devils and ghouls before _the Black Murder_ slams his foot down on his hand. Tony doesn’t scream, he grunts a little in pain. “I’d say a tinman is quite easy to break actually,” he presses harder, shifting his foot right and left. Tony grits his teeth.

Tony thinks about his chances then. Thinks about his teammates, too busy fighting other HYDRA dogs out at base. But then there’s also his repulsors and _ah_ \- Steve slams his other boot down his gauntlet just as he tried to raise it up. Now they’re both a no go. _Shit._ He could kick this bastards balls off but he couldn’t really feel his legs at the moment and he’s pretty sure four of his fingers are already broken-

“ _Stop it.”_

Tony snaps up, stares at him and raises his eyebrows, “Stop what?”

“ _Thinking,”_

Steve shakes his head, his face scrunched up in confusion, “I get it, _I get it_ , you’re thinkin’ bout those other guys. Why you’re coms won’t fucking _work_. You’re thinkin’, ‘ _I can’t feel my legs now because he attached a paralyser at my hip-_ “

Tony gapes, his eyes shifts down and sure enough there’s a blue buzz sparkling down where a lighted dart sticks out of his armour. How did he miss that?

“ _Stark_.” He’s staring at Tony. Blue piercing eyes, stiff jaw, he actually looked sane for once. But then he _smiles_ , “ _You’re_ thinkin’ why I did it right? It’s a Hydra base staged as a hospital _but it’s still a hospital so why doesn’t he **care? Ya wanna know Stark? Ya really wanna know??”**_

“Rogers-“

_“Quiet.”_

There’s a click. Tony stares right up at a nose of a rifle, he whispers, “ _JARVIS, ready to take-off-“_   and Steve shoots.

 

* * *

 

“People died. _Innocent people Rogers,”_

The cold night echoes with his resounding laughter, “People die _every day,_ you think you’re some kind of saint tryna’ save a soul when thousands more dies at your feet?” he shakes his head chuckling, “That’s not how it works,” he looks down, murmurs quietly, “That’s not how it _fuckin’ works-“_

Tony shuffles his feet, wriggles his arms a little. The metal was fucking _cold_ and he regrets wearing a simple T-shirt and boxers under his armour. “Why are you telling me this? We both know how _that_ went,” Tony nearly loses an eye, gets a concussion from hitting his head on a fucking wall trying to escape from Steve and Steve, well _Steve_ leaves with a broken arm and several snapped ribs, courtesy of Hulk and Thor, (thank _god_ they’re on his side,). It didn’t stop him from kidnapping Tony the second time around though,

Steve shrugs, plops down beside Tony at his feet and says, “Six hours left,” he stares at the moon, bright and eerie, “Might as well make the best of it right? right?’

Tony scoffs. Their actually doing it, they’re _chatting_. Now all he needs are wine, candles and roses and his all set on that Italian restaurant he’s been thinking about and _shit_ , he’s _thinking-_

_“Stark-“_

“Then?” keep him talking, keep him busy, the last time he caught Tony thinking too much he ended up with bruises that wouldn’t leave for _weeks._

Steve’s confused at first, “Then?” and suddenly he brightens up, like a child given a candy, “Oh! _Then,”_ he taps his boots at the ground, irregularly, like it’s an unhelpful spasm his feet makes but he doesn’t bat an eye on it at all, “Then _I woke up,”_

* * *

 

_The sharp intake of breath, the pleasure of regaining the ability to actually move again and- and the flow of warmth down his hands._

But wait just a fucking damn second, that’s not really how it went ain’t it?

It gets _hotter._

_Confusion, panic, and the heat burning down his fingers, melting his face off and swallowing down his screams._

He starts to breathe unsteady bursts of inhale and exhale that goes _nowhere_ because it doesn’t feel like he’s breathing at all. It’s suffocating and stuffy, the air stale, damp. He only sees darkness and when he tries to move around he feels cool metal walls from all around him, encasing him, like some metal coffin.

He panics. Thoughts of, ’ _Why am I here?’_ is shoved away with the screaming need of, ‘ _Get me out!’_ He bangs on the walls, hits his head again and again until he feels bruises and blood flowing to his brows. The metal dents, a little, above it he feels a huge weight pushing it back down. He can’t punch the walls, that was how small the coffin was. He wriggles and gasps, trying to find a way to get the _hell out_ but he can’t-

“ _Say the words, Captain,”_

  Flashes. Flashes of rows and rows of fluorescent lights. Orders, shouts in German and Russian. The memories come to him like gunshots, every time he remembers his breath hitches. The next memory gives him actual gunshots, volleys and volleys of them. Blood and mud everywhere. He recalls faces he recognised once, faces he doesn’t right after he kills them and gouges their eyes out of their sockets-

He _screams._ it echoes, echoes with the screams of his victims. He knows what it is, who it is. So he hisses,

“ _Hail Hydra,”_

And gets a note of approval from the speakers above him. Then, the metal creaks and he could feel everything shifting around him.

“ _It’s him. He is stable. I repeat, the Red Star is still stable-“_

Light. Light beams through the opening and he hisses as it hits his eyes. It’s the damn same fluorescent light and he knows, _he fucking knows_ , that the nightmare he remembers isn’t over yet.

People fucking talking and talking and his mind is a constant drone of, _shutupshutupshutupshutup-_ they don’t anyway, they never do. He feels them, touching him all over, prodding, poking, assessing. It’s an overly familiar routine and suddenly it hits him. Hits him hard, makes him gasp in realisation and his hands shakes with excitement when he tries to imagine the faces they’ll make when they found out.

One of them, -a doctor, scientist, tormentor, torturer, they’re all the same to him- lifts his chin up roughly and says to him in a commanding tone, “ _Red Star, what is your mission?”_

It’s an easy thing, replying back to him. It’s a method they used on him. railing him in, repeating the same damn thing to him again and again, making sure he doesn’t fucking remember.

Oh, but he _does,_ and he says back to him, “ _The elimination to all threats of Hydra and-“_ it’s a fucking long speech full of bullshit about loyalty to the organisation and control over the lands. He doesn’t bother with it, he just loves to play a little while before he gets things on full swing.

The man turns away after someone behinds him asked if, “ _he’s ready? Or does he need any more-“_ shutupshutupshutup- he says to himself. They’re gonna test him with more crap he doesn’t need just to see if he’s in working order. Steve makes sure they don’t see him grin, makes sure to hide it as he flexes his arms and shakes his leg. He’s still in that damn Hydra uniform he was wearing when they shoved him under the metal iced coffin but now he actually feels kind of glad that he’s wearing it. Makes the killing more entertaining. The thing you laid your life to, murdering you in the end. Oh he _can’t wait-_

The man –thick black glasses, fucking weird moustache, dark eyes like tunnels. He memorises his face because that man wouldn’t be really expressive after this- turns around and now, and now he couldn’t control the wide smile stretching on his face.

“You think I’m stable.” He tilts his head to the side, the twisted smile still on his lips. The man makes a puzzled face, his hands reaching down on the taser at his left pocket before-

“ _Think again,”_ Steve grabs his arms, lightning fast, and doesn’t hesitate when he breaks it in two with a satisfying _crunch_. He screams, high and loud, echoing through the dark metal walls. _‘Underground then,’_ Steve decides.

There’s a flurry of movement, light flashing as they alerted the others about him. He pulls the man closer to him and uses his other hand to grab the man’s neck.

“It takes a second you know,” Steve whispers, cold blue eyes shining down at the trembling, gasping mess in his hands, “To break your neck.” They’re calling security in him now, good good good. This is all going too good, he thought he needed to ransack the place to get some firearms, looks like the guns are coming down to him,

“Time. Place. Exit. _Now,”_ He squeezes his hold on him and the man sputters it all out, sobbing, and hiccupping. Steve could even see a damp patch on his trousers. Huh, he’s pissing himself.

When the man says,” _2012, Friday, June-“_   Steve wonders about the world outside. Hopes it’d be different. Hopes it’s not the rotten world he left behind, hopes he could finally _finally_ stop and kill himself now-

But first there are rats to clear out. They crowd around him, shiny guns he’d never seen before all aimed at him. He doesn’t hesitate though, when they fired, he threw the man’s body in front of him like a shield and doesn’t waste a second after the dead man at his arm, now riddled with bullets, limps to the ground. He threw the dead body at one of the masked gunner, pounces on him, smashed his face with his boot, breaks his neck and snatched the gun right out of his hands. It’s another second when he aims at them firing at parts of their body like the –dick, hands, eyes, feet, neck- they scream and he gives a screech of laughter in reply.

Five minutes. Five minutes was all it took for him to kill them all. He steps on the scattered bodies, stared at unfamiliar faces. Arms and legs were all over the place, the stench of blood and smoke suffocating. Steve stands there in the centre of it all, face dirty with blood and soot, hands drenched in the same crimson red. He wonders if he should really step out, if he’s ready.

Then he hums a tune before stooping down, taking the mask off one of the men who tried to fire at him. He takes out his trusty swiss army knife and opens it with a flick. Moves it slowly to the man’s eyes and-

 

* * *

 

 

“You fucking _sick monster,”_ Steve’s eyes are glowing, Tony notes, but his hands are clenched into fists.

He knows, _of course_ he knows. The reason why they called him _‘the Black Murder’_ was because every time he kills a person he never leaves their eyes open. He never leaves their eyes at all.

“A dark, dark bottomless pit,” Steve mutters, staring at the ground, biting his bottom lip.

Steve continues, whipping his head up at Tony, smiling brightly, eyes closed, “It’s alright Tony darlin’, yer’ eyes are pretty so I won’t take’m,”

It’s confusing, sometimes. One time he’ll be stabbing you at the back and another moment he’ll be cradling your cheek like a worried mother. Tony has seen _dozens_ of Steve’s behaviour, switching here and there. He takes it up for the unstable mental state of Steve’s mind and the possibility of a multiple personality has certainly crossed his mind. So he gets used to it.

He shudders though, quiet and cautiously. Gulps down the fear welling in his throat and throws up nonchalance and sarcasm over himself. Steve was unpredictable, he was _dangerous._

“Oh, but when I got out-” he freezes.

Tony cranes his neck down, looking at Steve sitting beside his knees. He couldn’t see his eyes, they’re covered by his bangs. His face hides in the shadows.

The silence stretches on,

Until Steve says it again, “ _When I got out-“_

* * *

 

­­­­­­­­­­Before he gets out, he takes fake passports from one of the rooms, no doubt intended to be used by him anyway to fulfil Hydra’s missions. Strips a young man out of his black hoodies and jeans after he knocks him out and wore it over his admittedly tight uniform.

Then he reaches the exit. And he breathes the cold winter air.

He heads to town.

* * *

 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

He’s gazing down below. A wind picks up and Tony shivers again,

“The amount of people living in this city astounds me Tony, the way they live, the things they do. _Remarkable.”_

 It hangs in the air. Tony waits for it, waits for Steve to stare down at his feet and hisses,

“ _But,”_ Tony closes his eyes when Steve grits his teeth, punching the metal pole he’s tied to, “The rats, roaches, _vermin_ , runnin’ around are still _here_ ,” They rob, rape, kill and he hates it hates it _hates it._ They’re the shit he has to clear up, kill them just like he killed hundreds in the war, kill them and maybe, just maybe, he could atone for all the deaths he’s responsible for when he was the ‘ _Red Star’._

Steve breathes heavily, raves on and on about eradicating the bad, about shovelling shits out of people’s homes. Tony couldn’t contain his contempt really, “What about you Rogers? You’re no different. _No different_ from the _shits_ you shovel out-“

Tony isn’t surprised when the punch comes. He spits out a tooth, mouth and lips bloody. “ _Silence.”_ Steve is shaking, Tony could _see it._ His hands are trembling, fingers tapping on the ground after he sat back down. He doesn’t stop though, “ _Who do you think you are Steve? Captain America saving the world? You’re not doing shit, you’re making it worse that’s what you’re doing-“_

“What did you say?” His breath hitches in surprise. He stares at Tony, “Captain America?” Tony’s about to say something else before Steve laughs out, hacking in it. He laughs and laughs and doesn’t stop, hands holding his stomach, eyes teary with glee, “You really don’t know don’t you Tony?”

Tony gives him a puzzled look and Steve barks out another laughter, “Oh _god_ , you’re _clueless-“_

 

* * *

 

He fought, wildly, viciously. Biting, kicking, punching. But they managed to constraint him in the end anyway. Shoved him in a cryochamber set to maximum, crossed their fingers and hopes that in the far future the Red Star would forget everything that ever happened and would follow them. Like a mutt.

Steve screams and screams until the cold goes over his lungs and heart.

* * *

 

He has his face buried at his knees, thighs close to his chest, arms tight around his legs. Its unnerving actually, Steve is leaning on to him like he _needed_ the support. ‘ _This is different,’_ he thinks, ‘ _This isn’t the same at all.’_

When he used to kidnap Tony they’ll have fucking crazy conversations about the universe and shit, and yes, sometimes Steve will egg him on, be mad at him, joke with him (he’ll tell really morbid ones though), and he’ll giggle and laugh like everything was fine and dandy but it was never like this. He’s never sad. Not once.

“I _didn’t know,”_ it comes out as a strangled gasp. Tony thinks that this is as close to crying as he’ll ever get. Tony doesn’t feel pity- (a lie, and he knows it too. He had felt pity for the maniac ever since he saw the twisted smile- no. The cold blue eyes, screaming at him with the words: _HELP.)_ , he looks at Steve and blinks slowly. Wonders how he’d ended up this way, wonders if it was just him.

“ _Bucky,”_ fingernails digging in his hands till they leave scratches, “Bucky, _Bucky, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-“_

* * *

 

 

He remembers it rather vividly. It was unusual, still, quiet, and peaceful.

It’s when his eyes weren’t the baby blues Peggy had smiled at, not the colour of the sky he once gazed at, not the soft ones his mother kissed at. It’s the colour of blood, crimson, dark and daggered.

It’s when he was the ‘ _Red Star.’_

‘ _Count back from a thousand. When you stop, start again.’_ Steve grips hard on a gun, strapped to a metal chair, blood flowing from a gash at his forehead. The room he was in was empty, dark, cold, and _small._ There’s bloodstains on the walls, pools of it on the floors, and the stench is covered with the stink of shit and piss at the corners. Steve sits in the middle of it, head down. He breathes through his nose, when he reaches a thousand he opens his mouth. Breathes heavily, in and out. Then he starts again, ducking down and whispers the numbers in his head. He grips the gun harder, and wonders if he should pull the trigger.

Seventy-eight days and he’s been counting thousands for the nine hundred and seventh time.

He forgot what he did then, what he did to make them upset. To punish him, to make him lick the floor for water and bites his own fingers for food. He knows he deserves it, what is his purpose but not to obey them? He is nothing, he is useless, he is to be thrown away if they didn’t like him. He should know that- _know it-_ by now so _why_ hadn’t he pulled the trigger?

(He finds out later that the Red Star has come back with a thousand casualties and a trembling back. He has failed the mission, he has failed _them_ \- he hadn’t pulled the trigger because- “ _It’s a child! It’s only a child- I- I-“_ he cried at them. They pierced him with metal spears and shoved him to The Room.)

They say the moment he shoots, they’ll kill the first toddler they find. They say the longer he waits, they’ll kill five men every twenty-four hours. Steve swallows, licks his cracked dry lips and starts again,

“ _A thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-nine, nine-hundred and ninety-eight, nine-hundred and-“_

-and it goes on and on for another two weeks. He is naked from the waist up, pale, yellow and _ugly._ Jagged scars, lacerations, burns, gone because of the serum but it doesn’t hide the bones sticking out of his skin from hunger. He wears rags for trousers but it’s stained, filthy and damp with urine and sweat. Sometimes there’s also blood.

It goes on, until he hears someone screams, echoing beside him through the metal walls but that’s nothing new. He hears whimpers, shouts, pleas every time he goes out, it’s a constant hum to his ears so he ignores it and counts again.

But then it stops. He tilts his head to the side, cocking his one ear to the air.

And suddenly, he hears a sweet humming.

* * *

 

“…..Did you shoot?”

He still has his head tucked between his knees, his hands are shaking and when he answers back its quiet and soft, “Threatened to shoot m’self, stuffed the gun in my mouth like I was doing a blowjob-“he laughs a little at this.

Then, he raises his head, stares at his white knuckled hands, “Tried to find it.” He closes his eyes, “The humming that is,”

* * *

 

He hums along with it sometimes. Closed his eyes, dreams of a starry sky and hums along the tune in the room beside his. He always waits for the screaming to stop, when the scraping and banging of metal on metal is silenced. He stops counting when the humming starts and he hums along.

After he got out by threatening to kill himself, he shoots ten men tied, blindfolded, shaking in fear. The toddler behind him, held down by Hydra men wails, bawls, cries and piss, he screams for his mother, his sister. Steve blocks it out, shoots the men, again and again. Unblinkingly, face impassive. He steps on their dead bodies and wonders if he could find out where the humming was coming from.

Days passed, and when he _did,_ something in him _snaps._ (This is not unusual to him. He has felt it before. It is recurring, and familiar. Every time he changes, he becomes worse for every second that goes by.)

The screaming stops, the humming starts. Steve steps inside the room next to his and sees the mutilated body laid on the rusted metal table.

It doesn’t register to him at first, how the figure swaying slowly on the table seemed……familiar. What he notices first are the scalpels and needles beside it, there are chainsaws, pliers, screwdrivers, drillers, -too many, there was too many- and they were dirty, stained with blood and grime. He notices how it was shaking, legs strapped to the table with metal bars, arm, - _arm torn open, flesh hanging on the side-_ the other is a mad scramble of metal, wires, and _liquid-_ the yellow kind of sticky liquid and red trailing down the wires, its nerves and tissues broken down by metal, its skin covered by alloy. It’s buzzing and twitching. Every time it tries to move it, it flinches in pain.

It hums.

And Steve finally notices its- _his-_ face. Dark, long, filthy hair over hollow cheekbones and pallid skin. Red rimmed eyes, shut tightly. He _knows_ him, he _does, he knows he does- who? Who was it? The humming, that deep voice, he had heard it all before but where? When? Why doesn’t he **rememb-**_

-‘ _Silent night, Holy night, Son of God, Love’s pure light’-_

His breath hitches, something flashes in his mind,

‘ _Stevie! Merry Christmas ya punk-‘_

He steps closer, his breathing heavier with every sound his boots make on the metal floor.

‘ _I’ll stay with you-‘_

His hands are like a shaking tree branch, he reaches out for the others eyes, imagining leaves swaying in the wind,

‘ _Till the end of the line-‘_

The humming abruptly stopped when he brushes his fingers at the shadows under his eyes. A whimper comes out, Bucky freezes, though his unfinished metal arm shakes. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I won’t do it again, _promise-“_ he sobs out. Steve pushes on, pressing on the thin pale skin, going around the corners of his eyes. Bucky still has it closed. Steve gently, slowly opens his right eye with his thumb and forefinger.

It shakes, trembles, but Steve just stands there. Looking, staring at Bucky’s eyes like hollow tunnels and deep pits. His breathing gets erratic, he remembers, - _he remembers-_ **everything-**

It’s not there. It used to be brown. His eyes. They dug it out, if he can’t see he wouldn’t know.

Steve stumbles out. He vomits, when he remembers the gaping holes, the darkness. He doesn’t hear the humming again.

They find out of course. Sees footage of them meeting and fears the worst.

The next day they kill Bucky in front of him after a mission. Steve remembers his mouth hanging open right when the shot hit him.

He sees red. 

* * *

 

“Went outta control. Dead dead dead. I killed everyone there, they fuckin’ deserved it.” He smiles quietly, “Fun. Was, fun.”

Tony tries not to throw up all his lunch down his shirt.

* * *

 

Shoot. Stab. Throw.

He is like a well-oiled machine, he moves efficiently, no hesitation, no trepidation. He fights like a tank, kills people like he was born for it. He is the _Red Star_ and he makes sure anyone who sees him remembers the blood red Hydra symbol emblazoned on his chest.

No one recognises his dirty blond hair, his flashing blue eyes, or the way he gives orders, as if he’d done it before. Howard does hear about the Red Star, thinks about the possibility before shutting it out of his mind all together.

Just thinking about Steve Rogers made him wants to puke.

The Howling Commandos, (What’s left of them-) sees the Red Star as a feral monster, they can’t tell. Steve Rogers does not recognise them either, every time he is in the field his mind is not his.

Shoot. Stab. Throw.

And it goes on.

* * *

 

“….how?” Tony croaks out. He gave up on trying to escape. Steve will have his guy waiting for him at dawn in turn for Tony. He is just a hostage. There will be bruises after this, long purple blue ones, where Steve has tied him tightly around his torsos, hands and legs. But that’s normal, he was used to this.

Steve cocks his head to the side, curious, “How what?”

 _This_ isn’t normal though, he’d never really _knew_. Rogers past was a burden he does not want. Its gruesome pictures that’ll haunt him from now, its fear that blooms and spreads down his chest, it’s _empathy_ that grows and grows and he knows it should _stop_. Tony doesn’t want to know more, he _doesn’t want to._

“How did you become the Red Star?”

He asks anyway.

* * *

 

Rebirth is a word he is well accustomed with. Reborn to be a new person, changed in a way you would have never imagined. When they caught him, bloodied, exhausted, and panting hard from destroying Schmidt’s dead body, and as he woke up in an unfamiliar metal room, he is reborn again.

 Two years of torture, brainwash and experiments made him something akin to a slave robot. The only words Steve reacts to are the trigger words, ‘ _Hail Hydra’_ and unfortunately, however hard they tried to erase it, ‘ _Captain America,’_.

When Steve hears the latter he freezes, and feels cold dead tears burning tracks at his cheeks.

His first successful first mission is when he kills a hundred men in point blank range and burns down one of their secret bases. Red star is born. He is rebirthed again.

* * *

 

“Hey, hey Tony,” Steve is fiddling with one of his knives. It’s the swiss army one, he stops, flicks it out, scrapes the cement below, digging out little white lines at it.

“You know bout’ Johann Schmidt right?” he digs the ground harshly, the white lines getting longer and deeper. Steve tuts, “Boy was he ugly, gave me the shudders that one,”

Tony bites his lower lip, suppressed the urge to say, ‘ _and you don’t?’_ he lets Steve talks on and counts the minutes until dawn comes.

“Blood red, Red skull.” Steve slows down, but then he twists his knife around, opting to jab it in the ground. Raking lines and lines, dirt and cement breaking down, a figure was forming, “I’ve wondered what’d be underneath it you know? Would his blood be the same colour as his skin? Or would it be black, like his heart?” he laughs, “He was surprised actually,”

Steve cranes his neck up and smiled at Tony, “–gave me this funny look when I showed him it’s just the same,” he looks down, traces his fingers at the white lines. Murmurs, “Red blood, red skin, Red Skull,”

* * *

 

“ _The experiment was a failure-“_

He tears open another finger. Doesn’t break it, tears it right off, blood spraying out, meat shredded and torn, bones popping open.

“ _You are no different,”_

One by one, he does it. He considered using pliers before but decided that this was _much_ more satisfying. He crushes the man’s kneecaps,

“ _You are a monster Steve,”_ Johann chokes, Steve tightens his hold on his neck but, “ _-a vile creature worse than me-“_ Steve’s face twists in anger, he grunts, snaps his head up to face Johann. Grabs his jaw in a vice like grip,

“This is Revenge.” He says. Johann laughs at him and thinks, ‘ _We really are the same,’_ before Steve shoves his fingers in his mouth and rips his jaw in two.

* * *

 

Rogers is on his knees now, whistling quietly to himself. The knife swishes this way and that, making subtle soft lines and edging on deeper darker ones. Tony watches him in silence, dried blood sticking at his face.

They’re both waiting for the Avengers to give Steve Mr.Avery. There were rumours going around that Mr. Avery was one of the main sources Hydra gets its funding from, he sends it to a lot of sectors, all over the world. What he sends most of his money to though, is for the human trafficking and experimentation they got going on. Steve was _livid._ Tony could imagine why they were reluctant to give the man to Steve. God knows what he’ll do to him- (In his heart though, the dirty, dark, part of his heart, Tony smiles quietly, remembers his captors, the shrapnel in his chest and thinks, ‘ _Yes, this is fine-‘)_

“Beautiful.” Tony shifts his eyes down to the figure Steve had carved at the ground. Another wind picks up, making Steve’s hair whip sideways. He doesn’t mind it, he brushes away some of the dirt at the drawing gently, hands stroking down on it like it was a piece of artwork he was afraid to ruin. Steve’s fingers hover uncertainly for a moment at it. He could see it was a woman now, soft defined lines marking down the lady’s face, wavy thick curls at the sides, and firm lines over her uniform.  Finally, Steve strokes down her face, the back of his hands at her cheeks.

Tony imagines Steve’s eyes closing softly even when he could only see the back of his head, he whispers, eyes glazed, voice as if he had only realised it, “She was so beautiful,” and Tony wonders if the way Steve’s hands shakes was his imagination or not. Tony doesn’t see the tear that trails down his face.

* * *

 

“Peggy, Peggy?” His hands trembles when they thumbed her soft cheeks, “Peggy, Peggy _please,”_ red trickles down her chin, the same dark beautiful red of her lips. He holds her close, stroking down her hair and something inside him crumbles. ‘ _Wake up. wake up . wake up’_ a constant plea in his head but he knows she has stopped breathing the moment he laid his eyes on her body.

They said it was a stray bullet, others say she got in the way of the bullet, trying to protect him. It doesn’t matter anyway. He did this. He brought her here.

He ignores the thunderous beat of footsteps running around, shooting, hacking and punching. The fire that blooms, the smoke that soon becomes plumes in the sky. The shout of his name from one of the Howling Commandos, saying it’s too late, she’s dead, she’s dead…….

 “Burn it down.” He finds himself saying.

His voice is emotionless, stiff. “Burn it _all_ down,”

There’s a nuke sitting inside a giant aircraft they say, heading for New York. It’s quite simple actually. He’ll destroy everything, right here and now, nothing, _no one_ is going anywhere,

“ _Our men are still inside Rogers-“_

Steve grits his teeth, repeats the command and kisses Peggy softly.

The whole base burns down to the ground. Captain America disappears, rumours say he went out to hunt down the Red Skull,

* * *

 

Tony gapes, “You-“ it couldn’t _possibly be-_ “You’re,” he sputters.

Steve is still staring down at Peggy, hugging his knees to his chest, “Howard never told you didn’t he?” he cocks his head to the side, “Hated me did he?”

Tony tried once, searching back all the files his father kept on Operation Rebirth. But no, none of them existed. Tony had tried to ask him, about Captain America. His father had stared at him, scowled and had replied back with a silent warning never to mention that name again.

Of course Tony had wondered, wondered and wondered every time Howard would come back rushing from a business trip hugging Tony with a smile but would grimace when he hears about him and Pepper roleplaying Captain America, when he’d give Tony presents and praises on Christmas but they would never be Captain America action figures or comic books. Wondered also when his father had smiled, gripped his shoulders softly and tells Tony that he was his greatest creation and he’ll leave everything to him once he’s old enough. Tony wants to ask him about his past but he hated making his father upset so he keeps quiet and waits for another time.

That’s before his parents died in a car crash of course.

“I think he loathed you,” he licks his dry lips. “Thanks for crushing my dreams by the way,” And really, Tony felt conflicted about this because on one hand Steve is _dangerous, crazy and unpredictable_ but on the other, this man, sitting cross-legged on the ground beside him, mentally challenged and _broken_ was fucking _Captain America_ -

Steve smiles and continues anyway, “Howard was good then?”

“Good?”

“A good father.”

Tony paused, confused, “wh- yes,”

Steve laughs quietly, “At least _something_ went right….”

He knows. He _knows_ , and Tony suspects that he probably knows _more_ than him. ”Done your homework did you?” Tony suppresses the urge to shudder when he realises that the Black Murder knows more about their personal lives than he thought he did. Romanoff is going to have an extreme fit about this for sure.

Steve nodded, “  ‘course,” he stretches out his hand, staring at the night sky, “ You folks are all so…” ‘ _Broken’_ he doesn’t say. He closes a fist, looking up, catching the stars, “…..interesting.”

The Avengers are broken, but not irreparable. They suffered but they came out of it, stronger and better than ever. It was like staring at a conscription poster and hoping for a dream that’ll never come true. Steve is hopeless so the Avengers are an entity that he doesn’t admit to being fond to. He shrugs.

The Howling Commandos did good, starting SHIELD. Peggy would have been proud of them.

Tony heaves a deep tired sigh, “This has _not_ been a good night for me Rogers, “ Steve smirks, Tony grimaced at him, “Think you’ll treat me better next time?”

Tony fits it all together, Steve being Captain America, Howard hating the man for abandoning his comrades. Steve is insane, mad, and it all seemed so weird because the word _evil_ and _Captain America_ should _never_ be in one sentence. It just doesn’t make _sense_.

Steve doesn’t answer, instead his smile widens, “Confused aren’t you Tony? I’ll tell you _more_ ,“

“Oh _please-“_

* * *

 

Bucky falls, snow searing his face, cold wind shredding his skin open.

Steve screams and it happens again as it will in the future- (again and again and again,)

_He snaps._

(and again, something shifts inside him, changes.)

-

It makes him forget, sometimes. When he dances around on stage, smiles and punches Hitler in the face. The crowds _loves_ it, everybody does. And so for a time, it makes him forget, makes him live in this dreamland where he _is_ a hero, saving people and making them _smile._

It’ll only take a second though, to put his mind back in That Place. It’ll be the snicker of a cocky guy, the flickr of a cigarette, even the way Howard glints at him makes him flinch. He starts breathing a little faster, and he’ll be walking away, heart beating way too fast. He’ll seek Peggy, to talk to, to calm him down.

But after that, he goes on stage and dreams. Dreams that, for once, everything was just fine.

When the news about the 107th breaks out, his dreams shatters. Steve stops pretending.

-

The man’s neck snapped, like a twig. He is reminded of the day he and Bucky once spent as kids, crunching dry autumn leaves and climbing trees. Laughing and smiling. The man bites his teeth, (poison no doubt-) hisses, _“Hail Hyd-“_

Steve stopped it. He was going to die anyway.

Steve’s hands shook with the sheer amount of _power_ held in his arms, his chest heaving, eyes widening. He is _strong_ like he never was before and maybe, just maybe, now he could protect the people he’d loved so much-

(He doesn’t notice the dead flesh hanging down where his left ear should be, doesn’t bother with it. Should’ve been a sign really, but by then, Erskine was already dead.)

-

He is skinny, small, short, scraggly kind of creature. He keeps his head down, stuffed his hands into fists. He knows why he’s here, knows if he stopped fighting and struggling the daunting past would swallow him down with whispers of sins and screams.

When he hears a snicker and spots a smirk, he grinds his teeth together and grips his swiss army knife tighter. At night, when the bunks are quiet, when the only light is the moon shining outside, no one sees Steve Rogers grinning beneath the bed covers, fantasizing about the different ways he could trace beautiful bloody lines at all the other soldiers. 

Some nights though, they hear sobbing and once in a while laughs and teases at him when they see the damp spot on his pillow.

The training goes on and he endures it, just for that one hope that he could attain repentance, condolences.

When he meets Peggy though he stopped thinking all together. They had a stark resemblance, Peggy. She reminds him of his mother, calm and fierce, steady and spontaneous. And it hits him, pushes the breath right of his lungs because he hadn’t thought of his mother since _that_ happened so he vows. He vows that nothing, _nothing_ would ever hurt Margaret Peggy Carter as long as he lives.

He holds on to that, and smiles back reluctantly as Peggy raises an eyebrow.

=

Erskine does not see the dark pit underneath his sky blue eyes. He sees a human, portrayed to be brave and determined. He does not see Steve, struggling and scrambling at the edges of his sanity that is left.

-

Steve goes again and again even when he knows they’ll reject him. But he _needs_ it, he needs to forget, forget what happened, forget what he did, forget what even _Bucky_ didn’t know. He needs to die in the battlefield, killing for a righteous cause, not regretting, not remembering.

(They threw him out every time, and he grips his knife harder. They don’t know. _They know nothing-)_

* * *

 

 Steve is standing now, stock still and upright, back facing Tony. The distant lights below makes his shadows seemed longer, covers the expression at his face. “Tony,” his voice is quiet, careful, like he was cradling glass, “have you ever, _truly_ , changed?”

Change? What does he mean? Tony, stares at him, contemplates about it but Steve doesn’t move at all, only the wind disturbs them, whipping his hair here and there. Tony, he thinks, changed in a dark, dank cave in Afghanistan, heart tied to a car battery, shrapnels creeping up his veins. It’s when he sees a man die in front of him, for his sake alone and he remembers the ghost of Howards smile at Yinsengs mouth as it dribbled blood.

(But that wasn’t really it isn’t it? Ironman was inside him, he was _destined_ to be it but Tony Stark had truly ever changed the moment Howard and his wife’s bodies were bent, broken and unrecognisable in the blazing wreckage of a car. His hearts beats a slower rhythm, it shifts, moulds into something reckless and uncaring with the hollow gap left by them. Tony stands in the rain at his parents’ grave and he thinks, ‘ _You loved me like you should but there were always too many secrets_ ,’ Obie’s beside him, Tony turns to him now. And he finds out later that there were secrets he should know and secrets that were better off not knowing at all-)

Tony is taking too long to answer.

Surprisingly, Steve doesn’t mind. Instead, he sighs, finally moving, shifting his feet to the side, “It’s tiring….”

Three hours until dawn, Tony’s surprised the others hadn’t come for him yet but maybe Steve had something to do with that. He blinks slowly, eyelids already growing heavy from exhaustion. He should be knocked out by now actually, why didn’t Steve just talk to his fucking unconscious body instead? He does not need this, he does not this _shit-_

“What is it like?”

Tony doesn’t bother answering him. Instead, he sighs quietly and slumped his head to the side, slid his eyes shut, hoping Steve would just give him a fucking break for once.

“ _Hey,”_ he shouldn’t have bothered really. He grunts in annoyance when Steve slapped his face lightly on the cheek, “not your bedtime yet sleepyhead,” it’s a quiet murmur near his ear and it follows with a breathy laugh and a fucking shit ass grin and _really now_ , there has got to be some rules in the villains handbook about not flirting with the enemy right? Oh wait wasn’t that for the good guys? He doesn’t remember and does not particular care either way since feeling _aroused_ of all things from shitholes like Steve isn’t going to change anything except maybe his weird preference for self-destructive guys-

“Tony….” He relents,

“ _What?”_ Not without bite of course.

“Being normal.” The hand on his cheeks doesn’t leave. It stays there, fingers tapping lightly at his jaw. “Do you know how it’s like?”

‘ _Fuck if I know,’_ His life was anything _but_ normal. Steve looks expectant though, his lips a slight quirk but his eyes the same cold blue that warns him that if he doesn’t answer  he could just snap Tony’s jaw anytime he wanted to and Tony is _very_ fond of his jaw thank you very much,

“Its…..” It’s before Afghanistan, before Obie, before the crash, before _Ironman._ It’s when Howard is there, smiling and patient, its…

“Steady.” Tony licked his lips, his throat feeling dry, “and…stable. Like it could go on forever.”

Tony hears a breath hitched.

“Ah yes…” Steve exhales shallowly, snatching his hands away from Tony’s face, as if it burned,

“Yes, yes,” his face is pale.

Steve blinks slowly, “I remember now.”

* * *

 

Bucky isn’t here. He left Steve to join the army. Steve doesn’t really mind though, (he tells himself that but he knows if Bucky was there it would _never_ have happened-) he has a job to take care of. Art school to be kept busy with. He tells himself that this is all right, this is solid ground under his feet, this is steady. This is normal.

(Something _has_ changed. Steve doesn’t know what….)

Perhaps it’s the empty spot where Sarah Rogers had once stood.

(It is.)

-

The rumours spreads out like wildfire, after they found the dead and bloodied body of one of their members hanged and nailed to the wall at the back of a bar they frequently visited. The gang abandons that area, runs away from Brooklyn and oh how Steve was fucking _pleased_ with _that-_

* * *

 

“Tired are you Tony?”

“Hmnnhhmm,”

“Do you know why they count sheeps to go to sleep?”

“Mn,”

“Because it rhymes with _sleep,”_

* * *

 

Years later, when he was the Red Star, Steve will remember this moment. Vividly, clearly, like it was just yesterday. Every breath and step he took, the way the man had looked at him oddly when he’d bought the gun, the way it seemed as if his body were on auto and his mind on overdrive with the words, _Revenge,_ repeated again and again like a high shrilling note screaming down his eardrums.

‘Tommy’ was his name, Steve remembered. Tommy was nineteen but looked as if he was roughly ten years older. He was buff, blue eyed and straw haired. Steve would never have a chance to push him down.

But Steve was smart, he found a way, and so, six in the afternoon, Tommy hits his head with a brick falling from the balcony above. Four hours later he wakes in an alley with Steve bending down grinning at him.

“ _Wakey, wakey,”_

Tommy sees the metal pipe far too late before it hits him square in the face. He gasps out, nose broken and bloodied, face bruised. And cried out when it hit him again, this time at his ribs, he hears an audible _snap_ , right after it hits his arms and it hits him again and again. He tries to stop it but every time he as much as hold up his hand he receives another sickening blow.

Steve is frantic, limbs flying out, his laugh was a painful screech and he hits and hits as if he was possessed, random words like, “ _Yes,”_ or “ _Fuckin’ like that?”_ spitting out from time to time.

Tommy tries to crawl away when Steve finally stops, panting hard, his hands trembling, white knuckled on the rusted bloodied metal pipe, sweat dripping down his nose.

He snaps his head up to Tommy when he sees him crawling. Smiled and drops the pipe to the ground. He starts to walk slowly to him, taking his gun out, his shoes clicking. He giggles at the sound it makes and chants,

‘ _One two,’_

* * *

Tony thinks it all sounds like some horrific thriller flick. When Steve stares at him though, he feels shudders and cold sweat running down his back. He tries to stop the trembling at his hands and forced himself to crack a smile when Steve beams at him.

Fearing Steve is a basic instinct, without fear you would have died with a flick of a wrist and no one would ever know. Tony being with Steve this long just goes to show how much _fear_ Tony had for him. He’s good at hiding it though, but that’s not really saying anything.

 Tony is good at hiding everything.          

* * *

Steve should have known. _He should have known._

They pester him, beat him, day after day. “ _Where’s the money Rogers?”_   he gets used to that, even, “ _Wanna be my bitch again Rogers? You like to take it up the ass don’t’cha,”_ from Tommy doesn’t make him flinch anymore.

But when they say, “ _Rogers, if you can’t give us the money, maybe someone else could pay for it instead?”_ with a leer thrown at his mother- _his mother-_ Steve’s anger snaps, but doesn’t surface. It would do nothing, nothing but makes things worse than it was already. So when Sarah puts a warm hand on his shoulders and tells him that it’s alright. They’ll make it, it’s alright. He feels the tension leave his shoulders and believes her too.

Right when he sees her cold dead body laid outside, mouth full with blood, dribbling down her white nightgown. A kitchen knife, the exact one his mother used for cooking sticking out of her stomach, eyes dark, hollowed out. The mocking, ‘ _We warned you,’_ scrawled on the wall.

Then, finally, (or for the very first time, it works either way,) Steve cracks, and feels himself dying. Slowly, slowly, Steve Rogers dies with his mother cold dead body and what is replaced is only a poor reflection of what he is, a broken twisted one that could never be fixed.

It is his fault. Digs into his mind and body. It is his fault. Because it is and always was. It is his fault. Driving him _mad._

_=_

Steve does not remember anything up to when he left to go outside and buy some groceries until now. On a bed, _naked_ , and tied up at his wrists and legs. He is facing the pillow, the ropes tight enough to bruise. The room stank of sex and smoke. Steve starts to breathe a little faster, heart thumping. His hands shook trying to scramble and sit up but only scratching and pulling at the stained bed sheets instead.

Where is he? Why- why is he here? H-he paid right? He did….

Tommy’s voice snakes through his ears. Steve closes his eyes and tries not to cry as he feels rough, large hands close around his hips. He bites his lips until they bleed,

* * *

 

“What do you think happen then Tony?”

He honestly does not know what to say. He looks back at Steve, throat dryer than ever, rasps out, “R-rogers,”

But Steve wasn’t finished yet, “What do you think happened to _me?”_

He doesn’t wait for a reply, “My _Pride_ Tony what do you think happen to it?”

And Tony wants to say something, he _does_. He wants to say, ‘ _stop’_ , to say, ‘ _nobody deserved that, even you,’_ , say, _‘sorry’_ because Tony hadn’t known and for all the things he says he could hide, he could never hide his sadness. He ‘hides’ it with mountains of alcohol or late night clubbing but it shows through really.

Steve continues, spitting out his next words, “What happens to _pride_ Tony, when you’re buck naked, tied to the bed, ass high up in the air?” he hisses,” _What happens to it when you’re fucked through an inch of your life, not a virgin anymore, blood and semen in your ass, dick nailing it as he pushes you again and again even as you beg for him to stop- stop –stop –you can’t take it anymore it’s too much, something tears and I cry and cry but no one fucking listens- no one fucking listens why- I-“_

He breathes heavily, Tony sees his hands clenching into fists. His voice is steady after, unnervingly so. No hint of a smile or the scowl of anger. His face is blank.

“It stays.”

An hour until dawn, and the darkness swallows them until the only thing Tony could see was dirty blond hair and flashing blue eyes.

-

It stays because Steve would have let him do it again. Would have let Tommy raped him a hundred times over if it would have made that one chance for his mother to live. But it hadn’t, and Sarah was still killed.

Useless, Steve Rogers was useless and nobody knew that as well as he himself does.

* * *

Bucky always told him not to do anything rash without telling him first. Taking the money from Tommy would have been one of them but it didn’t matter. Another night with food on the table is worth his world if it could make his mother smile.

She doesn’t have to know, so Steve doesn’t tell her.

The debt builds up, but Steve has hope. He’ll pay it in time and after it’s done he’ll stay clear of them. Nothing would happen, life will resume like it usually does. Like normal.

 -

“Hey Steve! Whaddya think you fancy being when you’re bigger?”

Steve hangs his head to the side for a while, thinking about his answer. He dangled his legs lazily, Bucky beside him munching on an apple they stole. Climbing trees were fun, now if only Steve could climb down without falling, he would finally hear the end of his mam complaining about his bruises.

“…..I think…I’d be a soldier,” he beams at Bucky, “You know, like my old man,”

“Hmmmm aright…” the boy smirks at him before dumping a bunch of orange autumn leaves on his head. “ _I_ wanna be a superhero!”

Steve splutters and glared at Bucky as he laughed at Steve’s flustered face,

“ _You’re a long way from being a soldier Stevie,”_

_-_

The vaguest memory Steve has is of his father, but it’s a fond one. He remembers playing with one of his toy soldiers, getting tired in the end, eyes growing heavy. He remembers warm hands carrying him up to their chest, and a safe bed, his mother singing him to sleep.

He wished it would have stayed like that forever.

‘ _Hush now, Steve. When you wake up it’ll be a new day.”_

* * *

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Sunlight breaks through the dark night, pure and shining, lancing through the sky. Steve could see hints of pink and purple, between the bright red-orange and yellow. He stares straight at it, feeling the warmth shining on his face.

The intercom beside Tony buzzed, “ _We have him Rogers, let Ironman go-“_

Steve sighed quietly, stretches his hands lazily in response. He grins at Tony, “Guess that’s my queue,”

Tony shrugs, “Hmph.” Then, “Steve,”

He freezes, leaning down on the edge of the building, “Yes?”

“ _Fuck you,”_

Steve laughs at him, eyes crinkling at the corners. He gives Tony an over-exaggerated bow, hands flourishing downwards and jokes, “’til we meet again, _darlin’”_ he steps backwards, dipping his head outwards like a diver and steps off the edge. Falls down out of the building but Tony knows the bastard has a parachute on him so he’s barely surprised. 

He sighs in relief though, when Natasha’s voice crackles out of the intercom again, ” _Tony? Tony if you’re there don’t worry we’ll be right there after we-“_ gunshots resounded outside. Tony hears Steve screech in glee right before he sees an explosion blossom at the side and feels it rock the building, dark smoke billowing upwards _, “Fuck- damn him- Tony sit tight alright-“_

He snorted at that, it wasn’t like he could go anywhere tied to a ten foot metal pole. He closes his eyes, and let his head drop. Maybe, after he opens them again, he’ll be in bed. He’ll be in a world where tonight never happened, where Tony Stark does not know that _The Black Murder_ is _Captain America,_ where _Steve Rogers_ is just a quiet, shy man with light blue eyes and an awkward smile.

Tony dreams about that world and when he opens his eyes again Pepper is beside him, face pale and worried, him lying on a pristine white bed, the hospital no doubt, he’d ended up here too many times to not know how it felt like. No sign of Steve. Perhaps he really did imagined last night.

 

* * *

 

“Where did you find it?”

Tony gasps awake, whipping his head to the side to see Steve crouching beside his bed. “ _How the fuck did you get in?”_

Steve shrugs in reply and repeated, “Where did you _find it?”_

Tony bleary eyes shifted to the side, to the thing Steve was holding on to, hands shaking slightly. Holding it so tightly Tony suspects it would have been torn open if it wasn’t made from vibranium.

This is a month after That night on the rooftop, Tony became curious, naturally. Dug secrets from SHIELD, obviously aggravating Fury in the process but the man didn’t seem that surprised. He’d _knew_ and boy the argument they had about _that_ would have blown up the whole SHIELD headquarters. Thankfully the only thing that did blew up was Banner’s anger and it had pleased Tony to see Fury’s uncertainty in the face of pure fury and er, green rage.

The vibranium shield was just one of the materials he’d gotten from the ‘ _Project Rebirth’s’_ archive. Others were tapes, guns, evidence and uniforms from the time Captain America was still alive. _‘Found buried in the rubble,_ ’ is what was written about the shield. Right after the big HYDRA base explosion.

He runs his hands through his hair warily, and glances at the bedside. Two-thirty was _much_ too early to deal with this shit. Tony stares back at Steve, “SHIELD’s little secret basement. Sector 37, filed under PR27834, go crazy,” Fury is certainly not gonna like that but it wasn’t as if Tony cared. He made it an achievement actually, to do what Fury disapproves is just a bonus in this whole superhero shiz.

Tony doesn’t wait for a reply, he laid back down throwing the blanket over him, mumbling, “and get the _fuck out_ Rogers,”

Steve waits until Tony’s breathing evens out. He runs his hands reverently at the smooth cold surface of the metal shield. Remembering its solid presence, tethering him to the ground. Steve sees it beside Tony’s bedside, and admittedly he was a second away from nabbing him for another kidnapping right after he saw it.

Steve stares at Tony’s small back, his rough calloused hands on the bed sheet, the messy dark hair splayed out on the pillow. He sighed. Too late then.

“Stark.”

Tony mumbles in reply so Steve shifts forward, making the bed dip when he pressed his hands on the bed beside him. He shakes his shoulder softly, “Tony,”

The next exhales comes out as an irritated sigh, “Goddamnit Rogers,” he turns around and squints at Steve, “What the fuck do you w-“ is swallowed down when Steve leans down and kisses him.

And really, _really_ , what surprises him the most was how soft it was. The pressure at his lips doesn’t go more than bruising and the hands that reaches down to cradle his head is not steady at all. Tony cannot move, he is straddled and covered. Steve’s weight a burden on his body that he feels all over and truthfully, it’s warm, and shaking slightly. Tony helps him with that, places his arms over his neck and on his back, a solid steady tether.

Steve moans softly when he feels Tony pressing back, tongue snaking out to meet his. He pulls away though and whispers beside his ear, holding on to him desperately, “ _Not now. Later….but not now.”_

He burrows deeper at Tony’s neck and Tony is too fucking tired to push a two ton super serum body off his bed so he lets Steve crush his lungs to sleep hoping that in the morning it wouldn’t be as bad as sleeping under a fucking mountain.

He had never taken Steve as a cuddler though. Tony smirks down at dirty blond hair, reaching his hand out to ruffle them slowly, at least he’ll get something to tease him about later.

 _‘Later’_   It hangs in the air.

Since when was Steve so important to have a ‘later’ crossed in one of his schedules? Since when was he so much a part of Tony’s life for Tony to expect him later on in the future? It’s a worrying thing, but it’s something he has no energy to talk about now so he lets it fade away. He runs his hands slowly down Steve’s broad back before closing his eyes again.

***

The night was beautiful. Moonshine on his skin, making it paler and translucent. Steve slides off the bed after kissing Tony’s forehead softly, leaving the man to his sleep. He steps off to the balcony, reaches his hand out to the moon and contemplates about suicide.

Tony was right really, he was always right. Steve was no better than the shits he killed and tortured under him. He could just step off of this balcony right now and let his head be smashed like an egg on the unforgiving ground below. It’ll be right. He deserved it anyway.

He takes a step forward.

Something flashes to the side, catching his eye. It was his shield. Steve stops, remembers Peggy, Bucky, and his squad. He turns his head and stares at Tony, face soft and peaceful under sleep’s heavy spell.

Maybe. Maybe there is still a way. Steve was never the one to give up first right? (that does not really matter since he wasn’t really Steve, Steve was a pale emaciated corpse trembling and crying beside his mother’s dead body, hands on her horribly cold cheek,)

Steve takes a step back, and plans it for another time. Maybe he could kidnap Tony next Tuesday? Beside that nice Italian restaurant, he’d always wanted to taste the wine over there, and maybe after that he could sabotage the Avengers again.

After all, he was quite fond of them.

- _fin-_

 

**Author's Note:**

> -but then I go ah! I remember now....
> 
> (Please leave comments, it is much appreciated! and tell me if there is any confusion in the timeline,)


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